


Perfecting The Man

by Zivitz



Series: To Make A Home [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Babyfic, Fatherhood, Gen, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28632705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zivitz/pseuds/Zivitz
Summary: "Fathering is not something perfect men do, but something that perfects the man." - Frank PittmanMarcus reflects on his new children.
Relationships: Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane
Series: To Make A Home [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090235
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	Perfecting The Man

**Author's Note:**

> «Denotes speaking in Trig»

Marcus leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with one hand. He’d been looking at screens all morning and it was starting to get to him. It was supposed to be a day off, but as Chancellor those weren’t really a thing that existed.

Rosalie squirmed slightly where she lay on his chest, arms and legs twitching in her sleep. He ran a hand over her head lightly and then down her back, letting it rest there. One little hand clutched at his shirt, then she heaved a sigh that was worthy of someone many times her age and was still again. He smiled down at her, pulling his head back as far as he could to try and see her face. It was a marvel to him every time he saw her, how so much... _everything_ could exist in such a tiny thing. He rubbed his hand slowly up and down her back.

They’d had her a month and he was willing to say, to himself at least, that he was wildly in love with her. Dark brown hair that nearly matched his own, round eyes that had yet to decide what colour they were going to be, little cupid’s bow mouth and a precious button nose on a face with cheeks as rosy as her name. She was beautiful and sweet and demanding and _perfect_. He kissed the top of her head softly and lay his cheek against her bare head, smelling the baby smell he’d never really believed existed. It was soap and sweet oil and sour milk and something uniquely Rosalie that he could never get enough of.

There was a tug at his pant leg, and Marcus smiled against the baby’s head. Someone else was wanting attention.

«Hello, Arthur,» he said softly, turning to look at the boy at his knee.

“Up?” he asked hopefully.

Marcus bit his lip. This is where two children was tricky, and they were still learning. He looked past the toddler to the couch and braced the baby against him as he rose. «Let’s go to the couch, then we can have up.»

Arthur nodded and made his way to the couch, where he grunted and pulled and threw a leg up as Marcus watched. He chuckled softly and followed, bending at the knees to put a hand under the boy’s rump and give him a boost. It amazed him how much Arthur understood despite his own small vocabulary. Whether in English or Trigedasleng, he was able to understand simple conversations and instructions. They weren’t quite at the point where they had to spell things, but he imagined that day was coming. If one of them said “bath” he’d start disrobing, if they mentioned “food” he was waiting by the door in a flash. He was so smart, this little boy with the big brown eyes and tousled curls.

Marcus helped Arthur to one side of the couch and himself sat in the middle, adjusting some pillows before laying back with a sigh. Then he bit back a groan as Arthur managed to put a foot squarely in his crotch on his way to lay next to his sister. The baby was awake now, blinking slowly and sleepily at her surroundings, and Marcus cursed internally. She needed at least another half hour or there’d be hell to pay later.

Her brother, unaware of all this, rested his chin on Marcus’s chest and reached out a hand to fondle his beard, small smile on his face. He began talking, most of his ‘words’ sounding vaguely English with the odd Trig sounding gibberish thrown in.

Marcus began rubbing Rosalie’s back with the hand that still supported her, hoping to lull her back to sleep. «Shhhhh, Rosie needs to sleep,» he said softly, holding a finger to his lips.

“Ssssss. Seep,” the toddler nodded, laying his head down on Marcus’s chest and carefully putting one arm around his sister, who squirmed at all the contact. Marcus murmured softly to her and Arthur patted her back gently, and between them her eyes began to drift closed until finally they stopped opening and her breath evened out.

«You’re a good brother,» he said to Arthur, brushing his other hand through the boy’s curls. «So gentle with your sister.»

“Baby,” he whispered lazily, and Marcus realized that he wasn’t far behind Rosalie. The boy’s eyes rolled back slightly every time Marcus passed a hand through his hair, until they finally closed for good.

He’d allowed himself to acknowledge some time ago that he liked children. He loved their curiosity, their openness, their willingness to copy and learn, their spontaneous acts of empathy and kindness toward others. He loved going down to the nursery or the school from time to time and sitting in on play time or lessons. It was good move from a political perspective- to see how things were going and to be seen taking an interest in the children of Skaikru- but it was also something he _enjoyed_. He loved to sit among them and see things from their perspective, inspecting the toys the little ones brought him with all the seriousness he reserved for emergency Council meetings or answering questions from the older children that were everything from professional (“How do you decide when to vote on something?”) to personal (“Do you and Dr. Griffin share a bed?”).

But this he’d never expected. To be a father, certainly not at his age, and definitely not of two young children at once. He couldn’t deny, though, that he was enjoying it immensely. Even with the lack of sleep, messy diapers, back pain, endless arguing with a toddler over wearing clothes, and outrageous amount of laundry- he was _loving_ this. In these quiet moments, listening to his children- **his children** \- breathe in and out of sync with each other as they napped, he wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn’t been who he was all those years. Whether he’d have settled and had a child and if it would have made him a better man. Somehow he doubted it.

Arthur shifted, straightening his arms and tucking his hands under his diaper for warmth or comfort, Marcus couldn’t tell. He nuzzled into Marcus’s chest and mumbled something unintelligible. Rosalie reacted to the loss and movement by complaining lightly in her sleep, but a small shift higher on his torso and a soft kiss to her hair had her lightly snoring again.

All those years  had led him here, to Earth, to Arkadia, to the Chancellorship, and Abby, and two little bodies sleeping peacefully on their new father. On balance, he thought as he was lulled to sleep by the rhythmic breathing of  _his_ children, he wouldn’t change a thing.


End file.
